


There's Nothing That I Can Do, Except Bury My Love For You

by sweeterthankarma



Category: The Bold Type
Genre: Episode: S2E7 Betsy, F/F, Pining, compulsory heterosexuality, unrequited crushes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 05:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15357270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthankarma/pseuds/sweeterthankarma
Summary: “I don’t really, ever” is the response that flies out of Jane’s mouth when Kat asks if she’s ever questioned her sexuality, and it comes out quick, too quick, before she can even consider the validity of her words or the weight they hold. It’s reflexive, in a way— she stifles her feelings so consistently, so thoroughly that it’d be impressive if it wasn’t so sad.The thing is, it’s a lot harder to explain her feelings when they directly relate to the blond beside her, and even more implausible when in the span of four hours she’s found out that said woman (her best friend, roommate, and commonly visited fantasy of unrequited, practically forbidden love) is not only a gun owner but also potentially into girls.





	There's Nothing That I Can Do, Except Bury My Love For You

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how many Jane and Sutton shippers there are out there, but lately I've been imagining them together and 2x07 inspired me to write this. I feel like Jane could potentially be a lesbian or bi, dealing with a bit of internalized compulsory heterosexuality, and I adore friends to lovers relationships, especially when the friends are as close as these two are. Also, you can't deny the chemistry between Jane and Jacqueline— even if she's simply the mother figure Jane's always needed, there's a lot of emotions there to unpack.  
> And there always seems to be far more layers to Jane than we think...
> 
> Title comes from the song "Moondust" by Jaymes Young.

    “I don’t really, ever” is the response that flies out of Jane’s mouth when Kat asks if she’s ever questioned her sexuality, and it comes out quick, too quick, before she can even consider the validity of her words or the weight they hold. It’s reflexive, in a way— she stifles her feelings so consistently, so thoroughly that it’d be impressive if it wasn’t so sad. Besides, she’s heard her family complain about “those poor, confused, sinners” in reference to queer people so much she’s practically trained herself to keep her mouth shut whenever the topic comes up, at least at home. Jane resents herself for it, but every time Kat mentions Adena and refers to her boldly and loudly as her girlfriend in a crowded space, she’s taken aback, sometimes even to the point of flinching. She’s happy for Kat, she truly is, but it’s not what she’s used to, and sometimes she forgets that relationships like hers and Adena’s can exist and be normal and healthy, genuine and  _ real.  _

The truth is, she’s never really felt like she could have that kind of love for herself, and certainly not in the way she’s always wanted. Love isn’t conventional for her, never has been, and she can’t even begin to explain it to Kat or Sutton, as much as she wants to and as much as she tells them everything else in her life. The thing is, it’s a lot harder to explain her feelings when they directly relate to the blond beside her, and even more implausible when in the span of four hours she’s found out that said woman (her best friend, roommate, and commonly visited fantasy of unrequited, practically forbidden love) is not only a gun owner but also potentially into girls. 

    “I do, sometimes,” Sutton had replied to Kat’s question as simply as if she’d asked whether she drank Smirnoff Ice on Tuesday nights when she was supposed to be planning outfits for Oliver’s next photo shoot. (It was a usual occurrence, and often they’d join her in complaining over the newest unattainable accessory and drinking far more than they should given the hour they had to get up the next morning.)

Sutton’s response should have sent a thrill through Jane, and it did, but not in the way she would have expected given how much time she’s spent, especially lately, dreaming— quite literally, sometimes— about what it’d be like to wake up next to Sutton rather than across the room. She feels guilty, because Ben is great and perfect and sweet so she should be happy with him, but something about the way he kisses her, too gentle and calculated, makes her mind wander. She thinks that’s why she’s still talking to Pinstripe, even though their relationship is just a game but it’s something new everyday and it always teeters on being relatively dangerous, which is something she’s never had. He’s just a friend nowadays, or at least she’s trying to keep it that way but she’s not sure what intentions he has hidden up his sleeve— and maybe she likes that because it makes her imagine the possibilities, the circumstances that won’t play out but  _ could.  _

Jane knows he’s just a placebo for the way she muses about Sutton and sometimes even Jacqueline (sue her, she’s a sucker for a woman who knows what she wants and takes it, and no one with eyes could avoid how downright  _ ethereal  _ she is). Still, something about the fact that Ryan is real and their interactions could lead to fruition of some kind, even if it doesn’t, feels less like wasting time. 

Jane knows in a few weeks she’ll be able to return to what Sutton said and mull it over, create a list in her mind of places she’d like to kiss on her body with the knowledge that she could actually, theoretically, metaphorically be kissed back and the action would be mutually enjoyed by both parties. But not now, she’s still angry at Sutton, shocked and upset and anxious and a little bit afraid too— she knows Sutton would never hurt her, but they’ve had fights before, standing right near her closet where “Betsy” had hid, and it could have happened, it wouldn’t have taken long for Sutton to unlock the case and…

Jane blinks the thought away. It’s senseless, unrealistic, maybe even more so than imagining that Sutton would ever feel the same way about her. But if she’s curious, if she’s been curious and therefore wondered about kissing girls, has she ever wondered about kissing her?

It’s a frivolous thought that should come and go in her mind. Jane has imagined kissing Kat, even Adena before, but both those scenarios were unsatisfying and felt awkward to even consider, let alone mull over or do in real life. That’s likely what Sutton’s own contemplations shaped up to be as well; upon first thought of any hypothetical, one always jumps to their closest friends, but Sutton must have dismissed that instantly. She must have. 

Jane tried to the first time her mind veered in that direction, and for awhile it worked. But then she kept coming back, and back, and back, and now she’s staring at Sutton’s lips and jaw and cheek while Kat says something about an open relationship. Sutton’s tongue flicks out to lick her bottom lip and Jane snaps back to Kat quick, attention diverted. 

They’ll deal with all of this later. There’s other things on hand, far more important or at least more time sensitive. Jane doesn’t think there’s anything more important than the topics at hand, especially Sutton’s gun ownership status and Sutton’s youth skeet shooting club that met and formed at her  _ high school  _ and Sutton’s rifle that has coexisted with her for so many years without her knowledge. It’s all too much; add in Sutton’s candid mention of her potential bisexuality and Jane thinks she should just take the day off.

When she’s back at her desk, she stares at her rough draft about her article (on Sutton, of course, because she couldn’t even make work easier for herself) and reflects. When she thinks about her own role in the conversation she’d just been apart of, she lets her mind move to a lighter topic— if suppressed identities can be considered a lighter topic than firearm debates, or even be compared. Either way, she knows she’ll need a drink tonight. 

_  “I don’t really, ever.”  _ Stupid. But at the same time, was it a lie? She didn’t wonder if she was a little gay or a little bi, as Kat had phrased it— she knew she was. It wasn’t an easy fact to sit with, and her own moral compass was shattered and disoriented from a childhood of aggression and loneliness. She had been taught by her grandparents and by religion that gay was wrong, inexcusable, worthy of ostracism and an eternity of punishment, and it was all just another reason she rejected God.

She knew, of course, that this was bullshit, but it was also so internalized that she had grown up sure that she’d never live to kiss a woman. Her father would disown her, and she didn’t  _ hate  _ being with men, so she’d get by. It never seemed awful, never even seemed to be unideal, until she met Sutton, and then she met Jacqueline, and then she watched Kat go on the same journey she did years ago, and come out  _ (literally)  _ with a happy ending. Or, at least an understanding and gorgeous girlfriend. 

Sooner or later, Jane thinks she’ll crack. There’s only so much movie night cuddling with Sutton she can reciprocate without squirming, only so many retellings about sexual awakenings she can hear from Kat without changing the subject. She wants to tell her she gets it, she’s been there, she’s valid (even though she struggles to remind herself that), and everything will work out. 

The last part, she does tell her. It’s partly for herself— she needs to hear the words out loud to believe it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me in the comments or at my Tumblr @ sweeterthankarma about literally any character in The Bold Type, because I have a lot to say about all of them and need more friends who watch the show. I'm also always taking requests or prompts, so if you have any potential future fic ideas let me know!!


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